


Hearth

by Avaetin



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst and Tragedy, M/M, Tragic Romance, no clear pairing mentioned, what-if's and should-have's
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-12
Packaged: 2018-04-26 01:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4984390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaetin/pseuds/Avaetin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“He told me to take him home,” Reyna breathed as she lowered her hands, clenching them onto tight fists by her sides.</p><p>Percy’s blood ran cold as his startled sea-green eyes drifted to the object that was placed onto his palm.</p><p>It was Nico’s ring.</p><p>They simply ran out of time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearth

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Percy/Nico prompt: Percy discovering on his own Nico's feelings. (like both on the Argo II and the discovery is made.)
> 
> My response: I do not know why I am doing this (you will understand what I mean when you read this Q A Q) or why it happened that way. Funny thing is that this sounded like it should be fluff, but I made it… different. Q u Q I’m sorry, but I am also equally proud that I did this.
> 
> This work is both available on my tumblr and fanfiction account.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and its characters for they belong to Rick Riordan.

_“Home is where the heart is.”_

* * *

The celestial ceiling that was of the universe was picturesque; billions of twinkling stars gleamed like delicate diamonds embedded onto the night sky. A faint midsummer night’s breeze faintly caressed dishevelled raven locks, and the hushed rustling of their apparel, fluttering against it was the only sound that was most welcomed.

Two lone figure were leaning cautiously against the wide mast of the Argo II, facing opposite directions with distant expressions on their eyes — both similarly like shattered glass. The silence, though uncomfortable, stretched on for minutes; perhaps hours but neither did register the time.

There were so much that could have been said; so much that could have been uttered to make such exchange a whole lot more meaningful and real, rather than bleak and surreal. But, they were pressed for time. They always had been in every step of the way. It was why there had always been that impenetrable iron curtain that draped between the son of Poseidon and the son of Hades; an iron curtain that neither had desired.

“I wish I could help you. I wish I could be there for you for once,” Percy murmured after what seemed to be a long period of time.

No, not murmured. Percy breathed his response, fatigue lacing his voice. It had been an utmost pleasure and blessing to be with the world of the living once more, and not sealed within the domains of Tartarus. Piercing high-pitched screams and guttural growls of monsters and his own demons still plagued his mind like a disease, but it was something he would have to overcome another day. The war still raged on, and it was about to reach the zenith; the ultimate climax.

In a few days, all of them could be alive or could be dead.

The son of Hades heaved an equally exhausted sigh, his lips quivering slightly as they parted. Nimble fingers gripped the hilt of his sword firmly, though the blade rested against his side.

“We all have our priorities. The seven of you have to fulfill the prophecy, and I have a mission of my own,” Nico responded casually, and Percy had to wince at the formality of his words and how his concern was simply casted aside.

“We will all make it through this, Nico. In the end, we’ll come back once more to the camp with — hopefully — a lack of prophecy dangling above our heads for once,” Percy commented.

A soft laugh escaped the younger demigod’s lips, but it was too hollow to pass for amusement.

Nico had been one of the few individuals who Percy had to admit that he had treated less than what he deserved. While Percy wanted to make amends for his inconsiderate actions and rash decisions, there had always been reigns pulling either of them back from mending their severed ties.  _Not now_ , a certain goddess probably crooned sickeningly.  _Not now when you have to defend the glory of Olympus._

“Hazel will inform you if anything has gone horribly wrong. Death sense,” Nico added the last part when Percy casted a questioning look on his direction. “Or…”

“Or you could look at the nearest hearth.”

“Huh?” Percy blurted out, sounding a bit dumb.

“The goddess of hearth and home; where we all come back to in the end of everything,” Nico explained. “We only have to look at the hearth to know if we still have a home to go back to. In our case, we are one another’s home.”

Percy could not completely comprehend what the son of Hades was sharing. Maybe it was the fatigue that clouded his mind or merely his low comprehension level alone.

With a small grunt, Nico pushed himself off of the mast before cautiously facing the older demigod.

Three fingers flexed in the shape of a claw rested atop Percy’s heart, carefully dragging outwards.  _A gesture to ward off evil_ , Percy noted belatedly, his mind temporarily preoccupied with thoughts such as how icy cold the pads of Nico’s fingers were despite brushing atop his tattered clothing.

“I might not be there, but I hope this would keep you a little more alive,” the son of Hades murmured, lips twitching slightly and Percy for once could see almost the faintest hint of a suppressed smile.

Following the gesture, Percy did the same for him, though his fingers did not retract once he was done.

“This will keep you safe as well,” Percy remarked as he looked directly onto dark brown orbs.

“And when we meet again, you can tell me of all your adventures,” Nico added with a curt nod, his eyes becoming dull for a split second before the younger teen regained his composure. “I have to go now.”

It was painfully curt.

Percy wished he had more time, even if just a second more, but it was never a luxury that he was allowed to have.

Reaching forward, Percy firmly grasped Nico’s hand, the pads of their fingertips almost pressing to each other. The hand of the son of Hades had always been icy cold, but at that moment, its temperature was an assurance that Percy needed.

“You’ll come back to camp, right? You’ll come home?” Percy questioned.

Nico seemed almost reluctant to respond, if his hesitation was not a strong indication.

“Yeah. I promise,” was the curt response, but he dared not chance a look at the son of Poseidon as he gave his response.

Nico turned away from him for a second, then halted mid-step. As if recalculating his thoughts, the son of Hades faced him once more before firmly grabbing Percy’s hand, placing his open palm on the black fabric atop his heart. It was palpitating evenly, yet a slight bit too slowly than what was normal.

“This is your hearth. I trust that it would tell me whether you live or not,” Nico hastily stated before carefully pointing a finger at Percy’s heart. “Just as that is my hearth.”

“Nico, I —” Percy never understood what he was saying.

“Because you have always been my home; the only home I would ever go back to,” Nico finished.

For a second, the son of Hades looked as if he had wanted to say something more, but he simply pressed a kiss to his fingers before delicately brushing them once on Percy’s lips, ignoring the stunned expression on the son of Poseidon’s features.

“Goodbye, Percy Jackson.”

The shadows gathered around him, then he was gone.

It took Percy a while to process their brief exchange. He (was) Nico’s home, and that gesture had surely been a kiss. It had to have been a confession, one that he was seconds too late to respond too.

No, he would respond to it when they meet again, and they  _will_  meet again.

So why did that goodbye sound permanent?

* * *

Life had always been too short to live with the burden of guilt and regrets; negative emotions being a hindrance in general towards pursuing the future. That was a certain fact that Percy Jackson always ignored throughout his life, stuck within possibilities of certain what-ifs and should-have’s.

What-ifs and should-have’s came his way once more.

Everything occurred in a fleeting second, so sudden that none could have been prepared or foretold what had occurred. When the heartbreaking sobs of the daughter of Pluto and an unnatural coldness grasped like talons around his heart, Percy refused to acknowledge what they meant. He needed an actual proof. He  _needed_  an actual proof to deem his suspicions wrong.

He  _desperately_  needed to see Nico.

But what welcomed them back to the camp grounds had not been jubilance from winning the war. The casualties on either side had been severely too high for any demigod to have a desire to celebrate. Victory was short-lived, as was happiness. So much had been lost, for a war that should not have been theirs to fight.

By the campfire, a lone figure rested, her mere presence alone driving demigods away from tending to her. She was battered and bruised; fatigued. But, it was unspoken that she demanded to be alone. And alone, she was.

Reyna, the daughter of Bellona.

Her glossy black hair which she wore on a single braid was slightly dishevelled and had come slightly loose in the midst of the battle. Dried blood and grime clung to her like a second skin, but she neither seemed to mind nor care of her battered appearance as she gazed with almost lifeless eyes at the hearth; the hearth that burned so low that it was  _that_ close to being extinguished. Her hands were restless, absent-mindedly rolling a silvery object in her palms.

“Reyna?”

At the mention of her name, said praetor raised her head, and the intensity within those usually piercing black eyes were completely gone. There was something in her expression that which Percy could not fathom, and it only had his unease surface with each passing second.

The mere action of standing up was like a burden for her, the slight scrunches in her expression being the only indication of the pain coursing through her body. Reyna approached him in slow steps, the sound of which seeming to echo in his ears.

Coming to a stop a mere feet from him, the praetor firmly grasped his free hand, lifting it up to his chest before she placed the silvery object she had been toying with in his open palm.

“He told me to take him home,” Reyna breathed as she lowered her hands, clenching them onto tight fists by her sides.

Percy’s blood ran cold as his startled sea-green eyes drifted to the object that was placed onto his palm.

It was Nico’s ring.

“Deep down, he knew he was not going to make it. But he said he made a promise to make it back home,” Reyna explained to him, but the words were like a faint buzz to his ears.

Drops of blood dripped from her clenched fists, but if there were any indication of pain, she showed not a sign.

“He said he wanted you to see that he made it back home. But… he –  _we_ ran out of time,” was her whispered remark, before he lifted her piercing black eyes to meet his once more.

Lifting her right hand, Reyna gently brushed the tips of her fingers against the ring, before lifting them to brush against quivering lips. The sad smile which curled her chapped lips was blurred by the tears that unintentionally dripped from his eyes, unacceptance and disbelief still etched onto them.

“A favour. A kiss from him for you. He had come home, Percy. Even if you cannot return his love, don’t let him go.”

Resting her hand down to his still open palm, she guided it to close to a gentle fist as if to emphasize her words. Reyna looked as if there was still much that she desired to say, but she simply withdrew and turned her back from him.

The ring was a symbolism to him; a reminder of years’ worth of pain that he had inflicted upon that one person he had vowed to protect. It was a reminder of broken promises and harsh decisions. It was a reminder of what-ifs and should-have’s. It was a reminder that he had yet to make the necessary amends.

It was a reminder that their time had run out.

It was a reminder that Nico would never come to hear his response.

Percy shakily lifted the ring, and brought it to his lips. If he could close his eyes for a few seconds, he could pretend that it was a pair of cold lips that pressed against his instead, tasting of fresh pomegranates and of earthly scent with morning dew. But, it was just a cold ring in his hand; the sole thing that Nico di Angelo was able to leave behind.

Reyna had been wrong with one thing.

Percy did love Nico di Angelo, even if it was unspoken.

Even if it was hushed.

Even if it only had been a tiny spark.

.

.

.

_finisce l’amore_

**Author's Note:**

> Nico's body actually faded.


End file.
